s it is possible to conceive.

However, not being married, and having a whole week more to be silly
in, I was both silly and suspicious. This was partly his fault. He was
reserved, naturally and habitually; and as he didn't tell me he was
tired and soul-weary, I never thought of that. Instead, as he sat on the
sofa, I took a long string of knitting-work and seated myself across the
room,--partly so that he might come to me, where there was a good seat.
Then, as he did not cross the room, but still sat quietly on the sofa,
I began to wonder and suspect. Did he work too hard? Did he dread
undertaking matrimony? Did he wish he could get off? Why did he not come
and speak to me? What had I done? Nothing! Nothing!

Here Laura came in to say she was going to Mrs. Harris's to get the
newest news about sleeves. Mrs. Harris for sleeves; Mrs. Gore for
bonnets; and for housekeeping, recipes, and all that, who but Mrs.
Parker, who knew that, and a hundred other things? Many-sided are we
all: talking sentiment with this one, housekeeping with that, and to a
third saying what wild horses would not tear from us to the two first!

Laura went. And presently he said, wearily, but _I_ thought drearily,--

"Delphine, are you all ready to be married?"

The blood flushed from my heart to my forehead and back again. So, then,
he thought I was ready and waiting to drop like a ripe plum into his
mouth, without his asking me! Am I ready, indeed? And suppose I am
not? Perhaps I, too, may have my misgivings. A woman's place is not a
sinecure. Troubles, annoyances, as the sparks fly upward! Buttons to
begin with, and everything to end with! What did Mrs. Hemans say, poor
woman?

"Her lot is on you! silent tears to weep,
And patient smiles to wear through suffering's hour,
And sumless riches from affection's deep
To pour on"--something--"a wasted shower!"

Yes, wasted, indeed! I hadn't answered a word to his question.

"It seems warm in this room," said he again, languidly; "shall we walk
on the piazza?"

"I think not," I answered, curtly; "I am not warm."

Even that, did not bring him to me. He still leaned his head on his hand
for a minute or two, and then rose from the sofa and sat by the window,
looking at the western sky, where the sun had long gone down. I could
see his profile against the outer light, however, and it did not look
placid. His brow was knit and mouth compressed. So, then, it was all
very likely!

Having se